🥂 Press a kiss on the receiver's lips / cheek while a little tipsy. ((oops my hand slipped- @paintedxghost / kisses!!!
Simon's a little tipsy; they both are. He doesn't indulge very often and never has —— the type of person who will more often get a drink at a gathering and carry it with him all night. But on occasions he'll indulge — perhaps more often now, in this world remade. But he's come upstairs to Verso's flat, lounging by the open window with a bottle of wine between them.
Verso's saying —— something, he's kind of lost track in the warm haze he can pleasantly sink into, and not for the first time Simon feels a gladness that maybe goes beyond the simple warmth of friendship that they're at least both here together. It's a good feeling — a feeling in that mix of things that he's not sure how he feels, in this worldly perfection that doesn't quite feel like perfection at all.
It's why, maybe, that when Verso leans against him and kisses him — just once, a wine-flavored burst of warmth — that he's not surprised. Expected it, maybe, even, in that way where he wouldn't have been able to define at all. But either way, he hums an approval into it, setting his wine glass down so he can tip fingers under bearded jaw, smiling as he lures him closer to steal another one, soft and easy, before chuckling low: " This isn't just the wine speaking, is it? "
